


Lucky Number Seven

by QuoteMyFoot



Series: Naruto AU Week [5]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Magnificent Seven Fusion, Alternate Universe - Western, Cowboys & Cowgirls, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:53:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29378085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuoteMyFoot/pseuds/QuoteMyFoot
Summary: Temari wants to make money, but Gaara prefers revenge. When they stumble across two farmers with a particular bandit problem, he gets his opportunity. And if they need a few more guns to make his revenge a reality, well, he's sure there will be a few to find in town...A Magnificent Seven AU for some of my favourite Naruto antagonists.Day 5: Cowboy/Western
Relationships: Gaara & Temari (Naruto), Haku & Momochi Zabuza
Series: Naruto AU Week [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2151003
Kudos: 1
Collections: Naruto AU Week 2021





	Lucky Number Seven

The town was dusty and run-down, windows boarded up and roofs missing their shingles. Gaara caught Temari’s nose wrinkling in distaste before she was able to suppress it. She sighed and reached under the brim of her white hat to rub at her hairline. “I don’t think we’re going to find any decent work here, Gaara.”

It wasn’t merely that the town was run down, but had _been_ run down, he suspected. There were a few hints—windows that had been boarded up with wooden planks, not merely shuttered, with no foreseeable pattern; fresh paint over a few places in town, applied unevenly, as though to cover only a handful of repaired spots; in other places, there were dents and scraps in the wood. Gaara thought that they might find something of a different kind of useful in the town, but didn’t say anything. He’d already located the local bar and he started towards it now, knowing Temari would follow.

The bar was the only place in town with any life in it—in the sense that many of the patrons looked like they’d grown out of the furniture like mould. Except… for one pair in the corner. An older man and a younger, nursing drinks and furtively eyeing the other customers in the bar; they looked like they might be from out of town, and not cowboys themselves from the fact they’d placed themselves right next to a window and far away from the door _and_ stairs. If that wasn’t enough of a clue, when the younger man caught sight of the gun at Temari’s hip, he immediately turned to his companion to begin whispering.

Gaara did not go to them immediately. He approached the bar and let Temari do the talking.

“Anyone looking for hands around here?”

“Not that I know of.” The barman sounded bored, like he’d already had this conversation today. “May be some of the farms out ‘n’ around here are still looking for workers.”

Temari grunted. Cow herding didn’t pay well.

So, the two men hadn’t thought to come to the bar, _or_ had been too nervous to. Either way, most definitely from out-of-town. And the only reason to come into the bar in town was to drink, to look for work… or to find someone to do _your_ work.

“Anyone in town got room and board, cheap? One night,” Temari asked.

“I think Mae still has rooms free…”

Gaara had come to a different decision. He strode across the room and sat down at the strangers’ table. “Who do you want taken care of?”

The older of the two men started spluttering, but the younger one just beamed. “Hey, you must have a good eye! Just the kind of man we need!” he said. “Our village is being harrassed by some bandits.”

“Tell me about them,” Gaara ordered.

By now, Temari had come to stand at his shoulder. “Gaara…”

“Ah, so that’s your name.” The younger man reached out to shake Gaara’s hand, and smoothly switched to Temari when Gaara ignored him. “This is my father in law, Tazuna, and my name is Kaiza… you are?”

Gaara seethed with impatience. “Temari. Now, the bandits. Tell me about them.”

“There’s about—two dozen or so, not sure—their leader though! His name is Sasori; you’ll know him because he has this scorpion tattoo—”

Temari sucked in a sharp breath.

“I have heard of this man,” Gaara said. _Just as I guessed. He and his men are getting desperate._

“What are you paying?” Temari put in quickly.

This made sense, Gaara supposed, although he gladly would have killed Sasori for free. She knew he was going to take the job anyway, but they might as well get paid too. Any amount would be a worthwhile contribution to Kankuro’s medical expenses.

“We can’t offer much,” Tazuna said. “The village scraped together everything we could find. A little over $100. But you’d be doing us a great service. When the village prospers again, we can give you more.”

“And of course we’ll provide food and board!” Kaiza added.

Gaara doubted very much that he would ever need a favour from some farmers, but that wasn’t a problem. A chance to kill the man who nearly killed his brother was all he really wanted. “These terms are acceptable. I presume you are looking for more men, as well?”

“We haven’t had much luck,” Kaiza said.

“My sister and I will take over the search.” Gaara stood. “We will meet again in two days so you can take us to your village.”

“Alright—” Tazuna began, but Gaara ignored the rest of what he said and left the bar.

Temari once again trailed behind him. “Gaara, if there are twenty-four of them, we can’t take them all on by ourselves—”

“I can and I will,” Gaara said.

Temari’s jaw made a clacking sound as her mouth snapped shut, thinning into a disapproving line.

“But it will be easier with more of us,” he added. “So I will look for help first.”

“Well, you never know,” she muttered, “maybe there really _are_ more crazy drifters in this town.”

Gaara was counting on it, in fact—cow herding was work no self-respecting gun would let themselves be reduced to. “The barman said some people were staying with this ‘Mae’, didn’t he?” He squinted down the street and was just able to make out the house with red curtains in the window, the one the barman had described to Temari. “Let’s start there.”

They’d barely stepped foot in the place when they were confronted by a cowboy arguing with a middle-aged woman that Gaara presumed was the landlady.

“I counted _three beans_ less than yesterday!” He looked middle-ages, black hair smoothed back beneath a dark brown hat, but his eyes were a piercing and unsettling green, the only part of his face that was visible beneath a black bandana. “This is outrageous. I demand a discount!”

“I’ll give you some beans to _count,_ honey,” the landlady snarled.

Gaara was not sure her reply made sense and the shouting had already begun to make his head ache, so he was about to turn around and walk straight out when Temari leaned down to whisper in his ear, “I think it’s Kakuzu.”

He paused. Kakuzu would fit, as he was famously a terrible miser, but he was also supposed to be in his sixties—the oldest gunslinger Gaara had ever heard of—and this man looked… not… sixty.

The landlady had finally noticed them. She glared. “This ain’t the theatre. You got business here?”

Kakuzu, if it was him, would not be so easily dissuaded. “I have calculated the value of the beans at nine-point-four-two cents, but I’ll be generous and round down to nine.”

“Oh, god damn it!” the lady shouted, no longer interested in Gaara or Temari. “Fine, take your nine cents, but I want you out of my sight!”

She stormed away. The cowboy called after her, “I paid for two more nights! If you want to renegade on our deal, you’ll have to pay a fee!”

Her only reply was more swearing, but the cowboy snorted and seemed satisfied with that.

“Are you looking for work?” Gaara asked him. Even if the man wasn’t Kakuzu, another body wouldn’t hurt. “We’re looking for more hands on a small job in a village to the south of here. About $20, food and board, two weeks.”

The man seemed to perk up, although it was hard to read his expression through the bandana covering his face. “Provided, you say? So I get to stay there for free?”

Gaara nodded.

“I’ll take it!” the cowboy said decisively. “I have to meet an associate here in three weeks anyway, and the sticks are not as cheap as I was lead to believe. Free board for two weeks will cover most of my expenses.”

Even before he stuck his hand out to shake on it and introduced himself as, “Kakuzu,” Garra was pretty sure it was him, since he could only imagine a legendary bounty hunter like _that_ agreeing without asking about the odds. They told him to meet them at the inn in two days time and then stepped back outside as the landlady began grumpily counting out Kakuzu’s nine cents.

“So that’s three,” Temari said dubiously. “I hope we can find a few more.”

She jumped when the door behind them opened again and Kakuzu stepped out. “You’re looking for more cowboys?”

Was this going to be an issue? The stories about Kakuzu said he often worked with others, at least until their own bounties got large enough to be worth turning in. “Yes?”

“Someone I used to work with was in town recently,” Kakuzu said. “I can put you onto him for a finder’s fee.”

“A _finder’s fee?_ ” Temari demanded. “For helping you not die by getting a bigger crew?”

Kakuzu shrugged. “You want my tip or not?”

“50 cents.”

Temari whirled to face Gaara, aghast. “You can’t seriously be—”

“One dollar fifty,” Kakuzu countered. “He’s worth the money. Best with a gun or a knife I’ve ever seen. Even I couldn’t take him in for his bounty.”

Temari blinked, whether at this estimation of the man’s skills, or the fact that Kakuzu’s ‘couldn’t’ implied that he had tried anyway.

Gaara considered. “70 cents.”

“One dollar.”

“70 cents.” He remained stony faced when Kakuzu frowned. “If he’s that good, I can find him by asking around. Saving me some time is worth 70 cents; take it or leave it.”

Temari was trying to subtly shake her head and mouth ‘bad plan’, but after some grumbling, Kakuzu agreed. He waited until Gaara had counted every dime into his palm and tested _all_ of them to make sure they were real, but eventually he was satisfied.

“You’ll find Itachi on a farm two hour’s ride north of here. Don’t know if he’ll agree to this hare-brained scheme, but can’t hurt you to ask.”

“It can hurt to the tune of 70 cents,” Temari muttered under her breath.

Gaara couldn’t see why she was complaining. She liked riding, and was even good at it. Even the most temperate horse became difficult to manage when _Gaara_ was the rider.

Still, Itachi—the Ace, he was known as. He was worth seeing, if only for the novelty.

*

They found Itachi in the middle of a spat with five men, drunken and roused. Itachi gave them several chances to withdraw.

Then he killed them all before any could even draw their gun.

“Are you with them?” he asked Gaara and Temari, very casually, putting his away without reloading it. Gaara might’ve been reassured had be not noticed the knives hidden up both of Itachi’s sleeves.

“No!” Temari’s voice came out unusually high pitched. She made an effort to talk normally, but Gaara still saw her fingers trembling. “No. Actually, we wondered if you might be interested in some work.”

Itachi’s expression remained placid and his voice a near monotone. “Oh? What sort of work?”

Haltingly, Temari explained the job and the offer from the client. “I know it’s, uh, less than you would usually expect, but it’s really all that they could offer…”

Gaara expected Itachi to flat out refuse and perhaps take insult at even being asked to take payment clearly so far beneath his worth.

Instead, Itachi only titled his head a little, like an inquisitive bird. “Interesting. I’ve been offered a lot for my work before, but never everything.” He paused. “The odds are quite stacked against you. Very well, I will help.”

Gaara could see that Temari was trying not to be obvious in her retreat, but she still practically spat out her thank you and advice to meet them in town in two days. She was on her horse and looking at Gaara expectantly within seconds.

He sighed but mounted and followed her. She was silent for several minutes, and they were long out of earshot before she plucked up the courage to say, “I’m not sure if that was a good idea.”

“Why?” Gaara asked curiously. He did not… really fear for himself, but he could see that she was.

She hesitated. “He… He reminds me of how you used to be.”

This draw him up short, startling Gaara into accidentally pulling on the reins. His horse tossed its head and snorted. Temari winced, and he hastened to reassure her by saying, “I see why you think that.”

Not so long ago it was only in death that he saw the worth of being alive. Thinking about those days was sometimes like trying to see into the mind of another person, and at others it was like a ghost whispering in him, a hair’s breadth removed from his own waking life.

“It’s not quite correct, though,” he said. “Itachi has nothing to prove by killing others. He will not seek it. He simply… has nothing.”

Gaara did not really fear for his own life, but all the same, he would be very careful not to make an enemy of Itachi.

Temari frowned and did not reply. They rode back to town together in silence.

Either way, that made four.

*

They met up with Tazuna and Kaiza the next morning to tell them about the two men.

“A good start,” Kaiza said. “Got your eye on anyone else?”

Temari and Gaara had to shake their heads.

“Tech. Cowboys will always come to the bar.” Tazuna waved at the barman for another drink, even though it wasn’t yet noon. “May as well wait here for ‘em.”

Gaara shrugged. After failing to turn up any new leads yesterday evening, it was as good a plan as any.

Temari was not so keen on wasting the day—or perhaps it was their savings she wished to protect. “ _You_ stay here. Me and Gaara are going to have a walk about town. We’ll meet up later.”

Kaiza raised an eyebrow at Gaara. He shrugged again. It wasn’t a big deal to him anyway. Temari got up from her seat and he made to follow her. “Don’t make everyone angry,” he said to Tazuna.

“What the hell are you talking to me like that for, you little brat?!”

“I’ll keep an eye on the old man,” Kaiza promised. “And for any likely leads.”

Gaara nodded and thought about adding more advice, but Temari was tugging impatiently on his jacket so he simply left. They probably couldn’t get themselves killed within a few hours.

Their trip around town was not very fruitful. All they had to show for their questions and visits to the outlying farms was dusty boots and tired horses. Temari was apologetic when they returned to the bar, apologies Gaara gracefully accepted, as the whole exercise had made his horse angry enough to bite and his shoulder was still smarting.

Evening had made the bar busier than their last visits, but this wasn’t saying much. Tazuna and Kaiza still occupied their table in the corner, but by now Tazuna was swaying in his seat. He was still alert enough, though. When Gaara and Temari sat down, he glared and said, “I still haven’t forgiven you, brat?”

Gaara furrowed his brows. “So?”

“There’s this one guy—” Kaiza leapt in immediately, leaving Tazuna to close his mouth and grumble into his glass. “—scars on his face, the works. Over there, by the bar.”

Temari craned her neck and raised her eyebrows. “Six-Shot Kisame?”

Tazuna blinked and put his glass down. “There’s got to be a name behind that story.”

She pulled a face, but must have decided it was not worth it to correct him, because she simply began to explain the story, not one that Gaara had heard before. Kisame’s nickname came from the six bullets which were supposedly still left in his body from a fight.

“Ah,” said Kaiza, affecting a sagely air, “but _really,_ we want the man who was able to shoot him six times, right?”

Temari stared at him. “No,” she said bluntly. “You definitely want the man who was shot six times, still had the strength to beat his assailant to death with a chair, and then survived the whole thing to brag about it.”

Kaiza looked a bit put out for some reason.

“So this Kisame is someone we would want on our side?” Gaara asked.

“Yes, but—”

Gaara was already out of his seat. He walked up to Kisame as the bar.

Kisame frowned at him. “What, kid? Were you and your friends talking about me?”

“Yes,” Gaara replied. He told Kisame about the job.

The main grinned in response, showing white teeth and the sharpest canines Gaara had ever seen. The scars on his face looked a little like fish gills as his skin stretched. “Some might say I should guy you for being so presumptuous as to ask that.”

“Really?” Gaara stared at him, but couldn’t tell if he was joking. “That seems like a waste of time. Why would you do that?”

Kisame’s grin slipped. He didn’t seem to have expected that response. Odd, considering it was an honest enough question. “Whatever,” Kisame said eventually. “Couldn’t take your small-time job even if I wanted to. Looking for an old friend.” He drained the rest of his glass in one gulp and slammed it down on the bar. “Now if you aren’t going to buy me a drink to apologise for wasting my time—beat it, kid. I’m only being so nice because I appreciate the honest type.”

“Who are you looking for?” Gaara asked. “We’ve seen a few people in town.”

“None of your business, kid.”

He sighed. “Fine. If you tell me, I’ll buy you the drink.” It must be that thing that old men did when they were down on their luck—scrounge for free stuff.

Kisame glared, but then muttered, “Itachi Uchiha.”

“Ah.” Gaara nodded. “If it helps, I know where Itachi is going to be for the next few weeks.”

Kisame put the glass down as it was halfway to his lips. “Wait, you do?”

“On this job with us.”

There was a pause, and then Kisame started laughing. Gaara didn’t see what was so funny, but he politely waited for the man to stop.

“Alright, kid,” Kisame said. “You win. I’ll do the job if Itachi’s going to be there. But if you’re lying to me, I’ll hang you and all your friends.”

“Okay,” Gaara said. What a weird threat. Even if he was angry, shooting them all would be much more efficient. “We leave tomorrow morning, by the way.”

Then he wandered back to his seat, next to Temari, to tell her what he’d said.

When Gaara finished, she buried her face in her hands. “We have _got_ to work on your self-preservation instincts.”

He frowned. “I thought it went well. He’s coming with us, isn’t he?”

“He threatened to strangle us all, Gaara.”

“Hang us,” he corrected. Tazuna choked on his drink. “But that was only if I was lying, so I don’t see any cause for concern.”

Temari’s head hit the table.

Kaiza laughed. “You’ve got guts, kid. I like you.”

“I am eighteen,” Gaara said, but sighed. It wasn’t really important. “Anyway, with Kisame, that makes things much more reasonable.”

“Yeah, we only have to kill five bandits each instead of twelve,” Temari mumbled. She did not lift her head from the table.

“There’s six bullets in a gun.” Gaara gritted his teeth at the memory of Kankuro’s blood spilling out between his fingers. When he’d thought his brother would die for the crime of defending an innocent bystander. Six bullets was more than enough. “I don’t see any problem.”

Silence.

“You know,” Kaiza said, “you’re kind of scary for a kid.”

*

Gaara was looking forward to being able to set off in the morning, even if it would mean several hours of riding. He retired to bed early in the room he was sharing with Temari.

He opened the door to find a man sitting on his bed and pointing a gun at him.

Gaara tensed, his arms lingering by his sides. A shoot-out would be wasteful right before facing Sasori’s bandits, though. “Excuse me,” he said. “I think you’re in the wrong room.”

The man had small eyes, the rest of his features hidden away behind a wrap. “I don’t think I am.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Gaara saw the shadows shift under the door. “Perhaps you and your friend would like to think again.”

At that, the man frowned. “Haku, you have to stop getting caught like this.”

“Sorry, Zabuza.” A young, slim figure stepped out from behind the doorway. They also had their gun out, but their feminine features shifted into a pretty smile as they put it away, holding up their hands peaceably. “We aren’t actually here to fight, though, so I’m sure we can resolve this like adults.”

This Haku was the first person today to refer to Gaara as an adult, so he decided he liked them. For now. “What do you want, then? I want to go to bed.”

“Heard you were the one asking around for a big job,” Zabuza said. “We’re in. The boy as well. We need a place to lay low and your villagers are going to give us the perfect place.”

Oh, so Haku was a boy. Gaara sighed. “You didn’t need to ambush me in my hotel room for that.”

Zabuza chuckled and finally put away his gun. Gaara did not relax. “Bit awkward to be seen, at these times. Tell anyone I was here and your sister will pay for it. We’ll meet you outside town tomorrow.”

“Fine,” Gaara said, still feeling that such a dramatic confrontation had been unwarranted. He couldn’t been asleep by now. “Are you a wanted man?”

“You only just realised this?” Zabuza laughed again, darkly, and pulled down the wrap to reveal his face, surprisingly pale. “Recognise me now?”

“No.” Gaara sighed as the man frowned and blinked at him. “I don’t care if you have a bounty on your head. Get out of my room.”

“Will you accept us on your job, though?” Haku pressed.

“I already said yes.” When neither of them moved, he scowled and added, “I want the bandits dead and I don’t care how it’s done or who by. Will you leave now?”

“Ah. It’s personal work. That explains it.” Zabuza stood from the bed and, after a moment, Gaara stood aside to let him pass through the doorway. “Don’t worry yourself. If you want someone dead, I’m your man.”

Haku hesitated as he followed Zabuza from the room. “These bandits… did they hurt someone precious to you?”

“Haku,” Zabuza hissed, “let’s go!”

“Sorry.” He bowed shortly to Gaara. “We’ll see you in the morning then. Thank you.”

He was very polite for an outlaw, Gaara thought, as he shut the door behind them.

When Temari came back to the room about half an hour later, Gaara said, “Seven seems a good number, doesn’t it?”

Temari froze. “Seven? When was it seven? What did I miss? What did you _do?_ ”

He frowned. Why did she always assume these things were his fault?

**Author's Note:**

> All kinds of comments loved and appreciated; concrit, I didn't like x, this reminded me of y, z was very cool--any thoughts are welcome and valuable.


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